


aftermath

by impossiblyincredible



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hunt Domain, M/M, cannot believe they sent us into the hiatus just like that, did they talk? yes! i said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25406875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblyincredible/pseuds/impossiblyincredible
Summary: He takes a long, ragged breath, and when he speaks, it’s so quiet that he’s not sure Martin hears him. “I’m sorry. Christ, Martin, I’m so— I’m sorry.”
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 12
Kudos: 164





	aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a short follow-up to mag 176! i couldn't stand not knowing what happened next so i just. wrote it i suppose
> 
> hope you enjoy!

They’re silent as Basira leads them through the thick forest. Jon can feel everything he wants to say pressing up his throat, but he can also hear the whispers of the woods, the growls of the hunters around them. Martin’s still breathing hard, and Jon knows without Knowing that his heart is still pounding; this place, he thinks, has gotten under their skin, and for all his posturing earlier, he’s not quite sure how to move forward, how to let go of the hunter.

Basira pushes past a bush into a small clearing. “This is where I’m set up. You’ll be safe here.”

“Are you sure?” Martin asks, voice pitching higher. “Not exactly the safest place to stop for the night—”

Jon puts a hand on his arm. “We’ll be safe.”  _ Please, Martin, if you trust nothing else, trust me. Please. _

Martin looks at him, and seems to grasp what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t look happy about it. That's enough for now, Jon thinks.

Basira gestures to a tent and says, “Use that. I know sleep is— out of the question, but you have to stop running for a while. This place, it’s—” She stops abruptly, clearing her throat and looking away. “Tent’s yours.” She doesn’t look pleased about it, but Jon understands. This is the most kindness she can show in this place, the most she can give without giving in. He’s almost overcome with a surge of emotion, but he swallows hard. He can’t afford to lose it now, not when they’re so close.

“Will we really be _safe?_ ” Martin presses. “How do we know we won’t just get  _ killed  _ during the night?” And  _ oh,  _ Jon hates the tremor in his voice, but he hates the domain of the hunt far more; he can feel something in him pick up on Martin’s fear and relish it. 

Basira stares at Martin for a long moment. “I’ll be patrolling. I don’t do much else anymore.” Martin nods once, clinging to his distrust.

“And Daisy?” Jon asks, immediately hating the arrogance in his voice. “How is she?”

"Prick," Basira mutters, but she takes a deep breath and continues. "She's out too. Comes and goes."

Jon lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, but immediately, worry starts to creep in. "And is she—?"

"I said I'll be patrolling." She walks away, but pauses and turns to look back at them. "In the tent you can— let go, sort of."

"Let go of _what_ ?" Martin demands.

Suddenly, Jon understands. "Martin, come on. We should get inside," he says, taking his hand and hurrying over to the tent. Basira still stands at the edge of the small clearing, and Jon meets her eyes. He can’t afford to thank her, but he raises a hand in acknowledgement. Maybe it's farewell, but Jon can't afford to think like that; she's survived this long, and he has to believe she's coming back. Her expression doesn't change either, as far as he can tell, but she nods, and with a dizzying blur of movement, she's gone.

Martin fumbles with the tent flaps, unzipping them open with one hand and holding Jon’s hand with the other. He has to duck, but he steps in, and Jon follows. Neither of them speaks for a long, painful moment.

He can almost see the shape of Martin’s fear, surrounding them both and looming far too large in the small tent; he hears it in the small, rapid breaths he’s taking and the way he’s sitting just  _ slightly  _ too still. Martin is normally a bustle of bright, nervous energy, and seeing him trying so desperately to mask his terror is what finally unravels Jon. 

He takes a long, ragged breath, and when he speaks, it’s so quiet that he’s not sure Martin hears him. “I’m sorry. Christ, Martin, I’m so— I’m sorry.”

Martin looks startled, but he takes it in stride. “Jon, what  _ happened  _ out there?” 

“I—” he scrapes a hand over his face and sits. “You might want to sit down too.” Martin opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but seeing the look on Jon’s face, thinks better of it and sits down next to him without argument. “This place, it— it differentiates people, separates them into hunters and prey. Trevor Herbert was prey, and I knew that one of us was— was bound to be the predator.”

He can pinpoint the exact moment the realization hits Martin. “You knew you had to be the hunter.” Jon nods mutely. “Jesus, Jon, that was  _ terrifying_! I couldn’t— I didn’t know _ anything_— I could have died!”

“I didn’t intend for Trevor to take you hostage, though, I swear,” Jon says, desperate. “I— it was supposed to be me.”

“ _Why_?” 

“It’s... a power dynamic,” he answers, choosing his words carefully. Seeing the look on Martin’s face, he hurriedly adds, “I needed Trevor to  _ think _ I was easy prey so that I could have the upper hand, and I knew I could stay calm enough to do it if he was threatening me instead of you, but...” he trails off, taking a deep breath.

“... But it didn’t happen that way,” Martin finishes grimly.

He fights to keep his voice steady as he says, “Yes. I never meant to put you in danger, I swear it, and I’m so,  _ so  _ sorry.” Jon can feel the tears building up, and he blinks rapidly. This, more than ever, is not the time.

“Jon, I’m not worried about  _ me _ ! I—” Martin stops, frustrated. He takes a deep breath, visibly calming himself down. “Yes, I would’ve appreciated some warning, but— hang on. Is  _ that  _ why you kept lagging behind earlier?” 

Jon nods again, wringing his hands. “I was supposed to be the hostage. Seeing you like that— in retrospect, I don’t think he would’ve killed you, but it was  _ hard. _ I’m s—”

“Hey,” Martin says, taking Jon’s hand again. “You don’t have to— well, actually, the apology is much appreciated, but I forgive you.”

At that, Jon can’t hold back anymore, and when he blinks, tears stream down his face. Martin pulls him forward, settling him against his chest; Jon leans his head back onto Martin’s shoulder and stifles a sob. For a minute, they hold each other, absorbing the silence and each other’s company in a way that, Jon realizes, they haven’t been able to since they left the safehouse; Basira’s small kindness was more than she could ever know. 

Martin is warm, despite everything, and Jon can feel his hands stop shaking as he leans back, letting Martin run his hands through his hair. He's missed this more than he thought, he thinks, this sense of safety. The predator still whispers to him, urging him to  _ chase _ , to  _ kill, _ but he feels it from a distance, like it can only hound him from outside Martin’s embrace. For a moment, he thinks about how time isn’t real anymore, no longer a river constantly tugging them forward. They could stay here forever. But he remembers Basira, wearing the hunter like armour, and he knows it would be cruel.

As his breath starts to even out, he turns back to look at Martin. “I—”

Martin interrupts him. “You don’t have to apologize again. I already forgave you.” He looks down at their intertwined hands. “But please,  _ please  _ tell me the plan next time. That was— seeing you like that, I didn't know you were being the hunter, Jon. I was scared of  _ you _ . That might have been because I was, you know, but...” he trails off.

“I will tell you next time, I promise. When I realized what we had to do, we were already too far in,” he replies, squeezing Martin's hand. "It wouldn't have worked."

Nodding, Martin says, “I know that now.”

And God, Jon loves him beyond words. Away from the gaze of the Eye, underneath the fear of everyone in the world, he loves Martin. He inhales it, keeps it safe in his chest so that he can take it out on a particularly bad day and tell himself that he’s still human. Gertrude, he knows, would never have survived the apocalypse because Gertrude never had Martin to keep her steady.

Martin seems to see what he’s thinking, because a soft smile touches his lips and he presses a kiss to Jon’s forehead.

“We should rest, like Basira said,” Jon says. He takes care to stay quiet, not wanting to break the silence too suddenly. “Once we leave this tent we’ll have to, er, go back to what we were.”

"And there's no way to control that?"

"Control what?"

"You know, stay human?"

Jon sighs. "We're actually surprisingly human for a place like this. The Hunt  _ is  _ one of the more animal fears."

"Ah," Martin doesn't look surprised by the answer, just resigned to it. 

" _But_ we've got time," Jon says, leaning back into Martin's arms. "Basira won't be back for another few hours, at least."

He can hear Martin's smile in his voice when he says, "Oh! I might nap, then. Or, ah, pretend to, at any rate."

"Sounds good."

"Right. I will see you in the morning, then!" Martin says, burying his face into Jon's neck.

"But morning isn't—"

"Shh! I'm sleeping!"

Jon lets out a soft laugh, and he doesn't close his eyes, but he lets his mind drift outside the tent, to the edge of the clearing where Basira stalks the forest. If he can do anything, he thinks, with a twinge of irony, the least he can do is keep watch.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! my tumblr is @archivistim if you'd like to talk there, or feel free to drop a comment!


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